Our hearts, scorched from rage, were on the verge of turning to ash. The things you said. The things I said. It seemed like the pain of it all had smothered us for good. I was preparing for a life of celibacy and solitude. For who could I ever love but you?
Like an endless winter storm my days were barren. Then, like a streak of lightning, your words broke through the cold silence of our hurt and started a new fire, a brush fire that flamed and became white hot before it spread throughout my body. I am still stunned, no dazed, by what I felt the moment that fire—that passion—reignited. It was hotter than anything I’d ever felt, like you’d led us into a raging forest fire that cleansed and renewed our love for one another.
This morning I am more in love with you than ever. I need the kind of love only you can give, the kind of intimacy that is holy and pure and without equal. I need you to carry me to forbidden places that only you and I should go.
In reply to The Storm.